


McHanzo Prompts

by LegendaryBard



Series: Ten One-Word Prompts [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9898370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendaryBard/pseuds/LegendaryBard
Summary: Some short little one-word McHanzo prompts, based on a random word generator.





	

APPEAL

There’s something about the cowboy’s walk that has vague appeal. He swings his hips as if in time to some music, a confident strut instead of his usual amble. His eyes are hooded, confident, and he carefully doffs his hat, setting it on the nightstand by the bed.

That walk is slow, coy, just for him. There’s a flashy, exaggerated wink. McCree sits down on the edge of the bed, and it dips under his weight.

It feels almost magical; a pulsating sensation of luxurious sin, like painfully delicious sweets. It hangs over the air, thick and heavy, like a drug. Everything about him- from his tanned skin to the bush of his arm hair to his damnable smile- is _appealing._

He leans forward, brushing aside Hanzo’s hair to whisper three words.

“The pizza’s here.”

Hanzo kicks him out for the night.

 

RASTLING

“It’s time to rastle!” McCree hollers, diving on the bed. Hanzo barely has time to prepare himself before the man’s full weight crashes down on top of him.

McCree attempts to pin Hanzo down, grinning so wide it looks as though his cheeks might split.

“What is wrong with you!?” Hanzo hollers, instinctively fighting back. He slams his knee into McCree’s gut and unceremoniously throws him off the bed and onto the floor. The cowboy curls up in a fetal position, probably in some measure of pain, but he laughs like a hyena and shakes from mirth.

“Jesse? Jesse, what the hell is ‘ _rastle’?”_ Hanzo peers over the edge of the bed. Did he hear him right?

McCree laughs harder.

 

MISSING

“You never miss.” Jesse says. The words weigh heavy, low. Grief.

“I know,” Hanzo’s hands are shaking. They tremble with strain. He lowers his bow, lets his arrow go slack in the string.

“Angela said he’ll be okay.” There’s a moment of hesitation. Hanzo likes being touched and McCree knows it, but the archer touchily jerks away from affection unless he’s feeling particularly vulnerable. McCree lays a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo doesn’t move, and the cowboy wraps him into a warm hug.

“He’ll be okay,” McCree repeats. Hanzo wished he believed him.

 

TREE

“I’m gonna get up there,” McCree huffs out a sound of amusement. “You watch me.”

“An ungainly thing such as yourself isn’t going to be able to make it past the first couple of branches.” Hanzo replies smoothly. He perches amongst the uppermost limbs, at home and comfortable. Like a cat or a bird.

McCree is more like a dog in terms of tree climbing prowess. He balances his foot against the sturdy trunk, brows wrinkled and lips pursed in concentration. He puts down another foot and jumps for the nearest limb. His mechanical hand sinks into one of the branches, and he attempts to haul himself up that way.

The branch snaps under his weight and McCree yelps as he plummets downwards.

“Jesse? Jesse, are you okay?” Hanzo’s halfway down the trunk in the blink of an eye, voice sharp with concern.

“Fine, darlin’, jus’ took a little spill. My ass’ll be a bit bruised, s’all.” He gets up, rubbing his asscheek and wincing. “Not like I’m a stranger to it, though.”

That line is coupled with a cheeky wink.

Hanzo snorts loudly as he draws himself back up into the tree.

_I can’t believe I was concerned about you._

 

PROJECTION

“I think you’ve got it jus’ right, Satya.” McCree strokes his beard as he studies Hanzo’s hard-light lookalike. The archer’s face is morphed into a deep, unfriendly scowl. “He’s even blue.”

“You’ve managed to capture Jesse’s unique method of looking like an absolute idiot.” Hanzo looks over McCree’s hard-light doppleganger. The cowboy’s double has his thumbs in his waistband, chest puffed proudly. He can almost imagine the structure saying _‘howdy’_ and giving a flirty wink.

“That hurts, sweetheart.”

“So does that belt buckle.”

 

BARRICADE

“I feel like- I feel like you’re puttin’ up barricades between you an’ me, an’ I _don’t know why.”_

“You don’t know why?” Hanzo spins on heel, a snarl on his lips. McCree stands his ground. “Because you, Genji, _everyone-_ I don’t _deserve_ to be liked! I don’t _want_ you to like me, but you _keep-”_ Hanzo balls his fists, letting out a loud sound to express his frustration. “Just _go away,_ McCree. Stop _hounding after me.”_

“Don’t deserve to be…” McCree trails off, looking mystified. “Oh, God. _Hanzo._ ”

He reaches out, an expression of sympathy on his face. If there is one thing that Hanzo absolutely refuses to accept, it is the pity of a two-bit cow rancher. Hanzo slams the meat of his palm into McCree’s face and grabs his arm, flipping him and throwing the man flat on his back.

Hanzo runs.

That seems to be how he deals with all of his problems.

 

MECHANICAL

“How did you get it?” Hanzo asks.

McCree attempts to swallow all the rice he’d shoveled into his mouth, feeling the lump burning his throat as he strains to gulp it all down. “Huh?”

“Your arm.”

“Ah, shit, that’s a long story.” McCree leans back in his seat.

Hanzo shrinks backward. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, naw, you ain’t.” McCree waves his flesh hand flippantly. “See, there was this mission. Back in Blackwatch. Got my shit blown up, I was too close. Lost my hand, bunch of my arm. Reyes swooped in, goddamn guardian angel, grabbed my ass and hauled ass outta there. I told him I couldn’t feel my arm- couldn’t see it the way he was carryin’ me- An’ he said that was a good thing. I got it bandaged up and Reyes said I could pick out a new arm.”

“It has a skull on it.”

“Reyes’ suggestion. I thought it was cool at the time.”

“And now?”

“It’s _hella_ cool.” McCree winks. Hanzo bites back a suffering sigh.

 

AWFUL

“Aw, sweetheart, you’re _awful.”_ McCree says fondly.

“And you’re sick.” Hanzo replies without missing a beat. “This is the least I can do.”

“Spoilin’ me,” McCree sighs. “I can get up an’ clean, you know.”

“You can barely straighten a sock drawer when you aren’t ill.” Hanzo folds the pair of pants he’s holding in a few deft movements. “You will stay right where you are.”

“I hate lyin’ in bed doin’ nothing.”

“You aren’t doing nothing.” Hanzo says. “You are getting better.”

“I still feel awful.”

“You will feel worse if you leave that bed.” Hanzo says it almost as a threat.

“Fine.” McCree lays his head back on the pillows with an exasperated huff. “‘F you’re gonna go around cleaning, wouldja mind puttin’ on a frilly little maid outfit-?”

Hanzo angrily throws the pair of pants at him, hitting McCree square in the face.

“Could’a just said no…”

“You are awful, McCree.”

 

BURGLARY

“You are as quiet as a herd of elephants,” Hanzo seethes.

“Ain’t my fault.”

“ _Take off the spurs.”_

“An’ leave ‘em behind?” McCree sounds offended.

“Are you a bumbling fool in everything you do, or is it just when we require _stealth-”_

“Who’s the one hissin’ like a wet cat? Shut up!” McCree reminds him, pressing his finger to his lips. Hanzo shoots him a glare that conveys everything words can’t.

Hanzo climbs to the window and perches on the two-inch ledge like it’s two feet. He quietly pulls open the window and clambers in.

“Hey!” McCree calls in a whisper-yell. Hanzo’s face pokes out of the window.

“Quiet!”

“How the hell am I s’posed to get up there?”

“Climb!” Hanzo growls, disappearing back into the home. McCree mutters a few choice words about Hanzo.

Not his fault the man’s a goddamn lizard.

“Dead, McCree!” 76 springs out of the bushes, pulse rifle brought to bear. Jesse nearly startles clean out of his spurs, hand flying to Peacekeeper on sheer instinct.

“You scared the shit out of me!” McCree sputters. “Don’t do that, God!”

“You and Hanzo failed.” The old man says, shaking his head in disapproval. “You have to stay together as a team. Give me three minutes, I’ll go get him.”

The man charges off, determined.

Two minutes later Hanzo is thrown out the window, landing catlike next to McCree and looking _incredibly_ disgruntled. 76 leans out, palms flat on the sill.

“If you can’t work together, you won’t work at all!” The old man calls. He draws back, slams the window shut.

McCree and Hanzo glance at one another, anticipating 76’s lecture. He’s going to painfully highlight every tiny mistake the two of them made.

Sigh.

 

 


End file.
